


Dance Real Slow

by PaxieAmor



Series: I Know That You're In Love With Him [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: American Pie, How Many Fics Can I Get Out of One Song, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxieAmor/pseuds/PaxieAmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Phil Coulson was not having a good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Real Slow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [See_Kay_Write](https://archiveofourown.org/users/See_Kay_Write/gifts), [flatbear](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=flatbear), [marchingjaybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchingjaybird/gifts).



> Not Marty's fault, but she's given me permission to blame things on her. This could also, in a round about way, be blamed on Tammy, Nicki, Mary and, of course, Kay. Because they're all awesome.
> 
> There's one part of this story that I might attempt to draw, despite the fact that I can't...

Anything that involved any sort of grace was a mystery to Clint Barton. He could shoot anything with accuracy that would impress Robin Hood himself and kill people in just as many different was as Natasha (he was only slightly less terrifying because he actually genuinely _smiled_ at people); however, the man could not slow dance.

When this first came to Phil Coulson’s attention, he wasn’t as amused as he should have been; only because he had been dancing with Clint at the time and his toes were rather sore. It was cute to see him blush and stammer an apology, though. That certainly made things worthwhile.

Phil would like to be dancing with Clint right now, if he were to be perfectly honest. Of course, he can’t think of many places he _wouldn’t_ rather be right now; anywhere on earth is likely to be better than tied to a chair with a bomb at his feet.

It’s not often that Phil has to deal with what most people would call “regular criminals”; the ones who still caused trouble, but were not super powered in anyway (super powered also being defined as super rich with the ability to buy super firepower). The last time it happened was the gas station in New Mexico, but that had been two idiots, only one civilian and there were weapons everywhere. The bag of sugar had exploded impressively against the one guy’s head and it made Phil grin slightly.

This time, it was a bank filled with civilians, five criminals, Phil was unarmed and there was nothing he could use as a weapon that wouldn’t possibly kill everyone else in the room. He was planning to let this slide; no interference until after he’d gotten back to SHIELD.

He didn’t expect one of the robbers to be a member of his old Army unit, one that Coulson himself had turned in for selling weapons on the black market and subsequently testified at his court martial. The soldier was dishonorably discharged and was _supposed_ to still be in prison. Needless to say, the ex-soldier wasn’t too happy to see Phil… until he realized what a unique opportunity had been placed before him.

This is why Phil has found himself tied to a chair with a bomb at his feet; apparently, bullets were ‘too good for him’, and they had to blow open the door to the safe anyway. His mind flashed to the Evil Overlord’s List that Stark had send around a few weeks back and was honestly thankful these morons didn’t adhere to it.

Still, he had about two minutes to come to terms with the fact he was probably going to die; if he didn’t die, he would likely wish that he had. Not because most of him would be in teeny tiny pieces, but because he’d have to see Clint’s reaction to said teeny tiny pieces. He didn’t want to watch Clint as he sat beside him, waiting for the inevitable conclusion to the comic book soap opera they’d been living…

“Can music save your immortal soul and can you teach me how to dance real slow?”

Phil Coulson had been reasonably assured that he was in his own personal hell; with that song playing in his head, he was now completely convinced of it. How long had it been since that day in Afghanistan? That day when his lover thought he wouldn’t get there in time to save him from execution, when he sang that song with such gusto, with such life until he came closer and closer to what he thought was going to be the end.

Phil closed his eyes, casting his face towards the ground. He has seen things that most would never believe, things that would chill most to the bone and make them question everything. It’s a song that finally affects him.

“Coulson!” Phil’s eyes shot open, his head shooting up. “Fuck, Coulson, where the hell are you?!”

“Barton!” Phil yelled. “Barton, I’m back here!”

“There are like, a million ‘back here’s’, Coulson, fucking be specific!” If they survived this, Phil was going to kill him.

“Try the room with the _bomb_ in it!”

“Christ, there’s a fucking bomb?!” His death would be slow and painful, in retaliation for all the years of complete and utter annoyance the archer had put him through. Coulson looked down at the bomb; just over a minute left. He knew what he had to do.

“Barton! Get your ass out of here, now!”

“What?!”

“The bomb is going to go off, get out of here now!” Phil watched (in what would have been amusement if they weren’t about to die) as Clint ran past the door. He heard the archer’s shoes skid to a stop, likely upon realizing that Phil had actually been inside, followed by a thud; Phil could only assume that Clint stopped so fast, he somehow ended up on the floor. A moment later, Clint came through the door and rushed over to the captured agent. “I’m serious, Barton, get go—”

The kiss that silenced him was forceful, _painful_ , yet Phil could taste the passion radiating from it. His archer held his face in his hands, feeling Clint’s nimble fingers in his hair. He returned the kiss, feeling his own lips quivering against Clint’s as he whispered “go” over and over into the archer’s mouth.

Clint broke the kiss seconds later, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against Phil’s; one hand was behind the senior agent’s head, fingers entwined in his hair, while the other gently stroked his cheek.

“I’m not leaving you.” Phil didn’t respond, closing his eyes as well; as much as he wanted to say he’d been thinking of Clint during that entire time, the seconds had been counting down in his head. It was almost over…

Four….

Three…

“I love you.”

Two..

“I love _you_ …”

One.

“…Hey Phil?”

“…Yeah?”

“We’re not dead.” Phil opened his eyes to see Clint looking at him, a relieved, confused grin on his face.

“We aren’t… how aren’t we…?” Clint looked down at the bomb between Phil’s feet; a moment later, he started laughing. “What?”

“Fucking morons…” Clint replied, picking up the bomb. It was a glob of C4 with wires sticking out; one wire that was connected to the timer didn’t seem to be connected to anything else…

“They didn’t connect the blasting cap…” Phil replied, dumbly. He turned his own words over in his mind for a moment before laughing himself. He laughed so that his entire body shook; he laughed until tears came to his eyes.

“Ready to go, Sir?” Clint asked as he untied his fellow agent. “I’m sure you have a lot of paperwork to do after this.”

“You will too,” Phil replied, getting to his feet. “Being my rescuer and all. How’d you find me, anyway?”

“Saw the footage on TV, knew this was the bank you used. Got Stark to hack the video feed, found out you were in trouble and got the Director to let me and ‘Tasha come get you.” Phil raised an eyebrow.

“Natasha’s here?” Clint nodded, grinning.

“I let her take out some aggressions on the bank robbers. Totally worth it.”

“Let’s get her and head back to SHIELD. We’ll have paperwork.”

“I’d rather take you dancing,” Clint admitted with a smile, which Phil wholeheartedly returned.

“Promise to stay off my feet and I’ll let you.”


End file.
